


Mustard Water

by AnxiousCoffee (TheHallowedAngel)



Category: Chicago PD (TV)
Genre: Antonio Can't Puke, Caring Jay, Caring Lindsey, Emetophilia, Gen, I don't like her but she cares a lot, Jay Helps Him, Sick Antonio, Sick At The Station, Sickfic, Vomiting, caring hank, emeto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 17:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18596113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHallowedAngel/pseuds/AnxiousCoffee
Summary: Antonio is sick, really sick, but he can't get anything up. Jay has a solution.





	Mustard Water

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a while in the making, hope it's alright! Please feel free to put any requests in the comments!

Antonio spluttered and coughed and writhed against the tiles as he retched over the water without anything coming up. He'd been here for a little over two minutes now, stomach turning over and over like he was stuck in the washing machine with his vests on Saturday night. 

"You know, if you let me help you then maybe it would go faster?" Jay knocked on the door impatiently, stepping back to peer under the door and watch Antonio's boots struggle to find traction as he struggled through another round of violent, unproductive heaving.

"Fuck-" he choked, chest convulsing as his gut churned and contracted but still nothing came out. He spat out a mouthful of coppery tasting saliva and took in a few shuddering breaths. "Fuck off." His voice was rough, crackling towards the end, and he sounded out of breath.

"Antonio, man, come on. Look, you're going to bruise something if you keep doing-" Jay was cut off by a guttural sound and he winced as Antonio clapped a hand against the cubicle wall to stabilise himself. Jay waited until he was finished trying to cough up, well, everything. "-that."

"Just leave me alone," if it were even possible, he sounded weaker this time, and his voice echoed as if he were neck deep in the toilet bowl.

"Antonio, please? Let me help you, would you?" He pounded on the cubicle again and, obviously having grown tired of Jay's bullshit (or the smell of stale urine), Antonio kicked against the door in return. The toilet flushed and Jay listened as Antonio struggled to his feet with a few lost curses, then stepping back as the lock slid open and his friend walked out. 

Antonio was paler than Jay had ever seen him, sweat glistening on his forehead, and there was red speckling the dark bags under his eyes, likely due to how much he'd put his body through just moments before. His hair was a mess, too, the gel seeming to have completely evaporated thanks to the fever that was running him into the ground. Jay noted, with a smirk, that Antonio was leaning heavily on the frame of the cubicle, an arm wrapped around his stomach so tightly that Jay was almost sure he was holding himself together.

“Glad you’re finding this amusing, Halstead.”

"You look like shit, why’d you even come in?" Jay had to step forward and slip his hands under Antonio's arms to hold him up when Antonio tried to step away from the cubicle, vertigo crashing into him like ten tonnes of rock. "Whoa, easy there, big guy." He muttered quietly, holding Dawson long enough to be sure he wouldn't keel over.

"Get off me, I'm fine." Antonio shoved him away and staggered over to the sink to splash water onto his face, eyeing himself suspiciously in the mirror and echoing Jay. "I look like shit."

"We can't all look flawless all the time, that's my job" Jay winked, sticking his tongue out as Antonio held a choice finger up at him.

-

Jay managed to convince Antonio to leave the bathroom through some streak of luck, having had to reassure him over and over that he honestly didn't look as horrible as he thought. And now they were in the kitchen, Lindsey had made a beeline for the two of them as soon as they left the men's and was now running her hands through Antonio's hair, cooing softly. He was sat at the table with his cheek to the wood, chest rising and falling slowly as he tried to control his stomach- which had gotten much angrier now he was away from bathroom. Every so often Antonio’s shoulders would jolt with a hiccup or a burp and he would flush red, and each time Lindsay would just shush him gently. 

Jay was waiting for the kettle to boil, watching the two of them with a small smile. "Love how you let her help you but oh no, Jay Halstead is banned." He was joking, of course, but Antonio shot him a glare that would have struck him dead in another life.

Jay just grinned, trapping his tongue between his teeth. 

-

Once the kettle had boiled Jay pulled a tall glass out of the cupboard and filled it halfway with water, moving over to the fridge to pull out a mostly full jar of English mustard Voight kept in there. Antonio had his eyes closed, though he wasn't sleeping, and has scrunching up his face with each cramp in his stomach. It felt like someone was repeatedly punching him in the gut- and he knows that feeling too well -without any signs of stopping, mixing his insides up into a pulp.

Lindsey watched with curious eyes as Jay took a spoon to the mustard and then started to swill it around in the glass, turning the water cloudy with a gross looking yellow tinge. She had heard of the method before, of course, but he was putting way more than necessary in there, surely?

Once it had all dissolved he filled it the rest of the way with cold water and then stirred it again before he threw the spoon into the sink, the clattering starting Antonio enough that he opened his eyes. His stomach turned as soon as he saw the glass, the water almost taunting him as Jay neared the table, holding the glass away from himself. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Antonio began, sitting up and combing his own fingers through his hair to right it. His other hand was nursing his bloated stomach, which was gurgling loudly, bubbling and turning. 

Jay shrugged, pulling a sympathetic face. “Nope, c’mon, down the hatch.”

-

Antonio had pinched his nose together to swallow the ‘cure’, which meant it was easy enough to get down, but as soon as he let go the taste hit him like a slap to the face.   
It wasn’t even necessarily bad, Antonio was the kind of guy who liked a lot of mustard on sandwiches, but the way it made his stomach feel so warm and irritated had him clutching at it with both arms.

He doubled over the floor with a groan and Lindsay moved to help but Jay beat her to it, gripping Antonio’s shoulders tight and quickly spinning him around, pushing him to the bathroom.

-

There was a point where Antonio was sure he wouldn’t make it, somewhere between being marched past everyone else in the intelligence unit and then getting pushed through the bathroom door, each step he took between those point only seeming to push his stomach further up his throat. He gagged into his palm and Jay urged him towards a stall, another gag had him clattering to his knees before the toilet, and a third had him fighting with the toilet seat to push it up against the system. 

The fourth, oh the fourth, that had something hot and sour burning the back of his throat, and Antonio hurried to pinch his nose together as he braced himself using the back wall. Jay’s hands were on his back as soon as the first wave spilled past his lips, catching the very edge of the bowl just a little as he struggled to keep himself upright through the vertigo that threatened to lay him out on the floor. He was just relieved at this point, so grateful something was finally happening.

The next gag was more of a full bodied retch, and it felt like it was scratching his throat to shit, dragging up the very lining of his stomach as he coughed, choking on every breath he tried to take in and writhing under Jay’s hands. Jay himself winced each time Antonio’s back arched, and when Antonio seemed strong enough to try and shake him off he withdrew respectfully and hovered in the doorway to the cubical.

Another three times he managed to bring something up and then he was just heaving over the soiled water; Jay scrunched up his nose behind him and did his best to breathe only through his mouth. Having lived with his Dad for so many years of his life, a man who had made many alcoholics look like casual drinkers, he was somewhat used to the smell, but it still wasn’t pleasant.

There was this urge, a sort of itch really, to step forward and comfort Antonio again, but Jay knew he didn’t want to be touched right now. So Jay shoved his hands in his pockets instead, chewing the inside of his cheek as he waited patiently for Antonio to calm down, and he did eventually. It took a few very controlled breaths and took a few tries, his shoulders jolting as a heave forced it’s way out, but soon enough he was sitting back against his heels. He scrubbed a hand over his face, then wiping that on his trousers.

And just as Antonio reached up to flush the mess away, the door opened, scraping against the floor in a way that had never bothered Antonio before but now seemed to be threatening to crack open his skull. Voight peered in around Jay, raising an eyebrow as his gaze settled on Antonio.

“You alright?” He asked, voice softer than usual. Antonio went to nod, even got a few milliseconds into the action, but he quickly corrected himself; there’s no way Voight wouldn’t see through a lie like that. Honestly, he had too look almost as horrid as he felt.

Even despite that, Voight cared a lot more than many would assume from their interactions with him, he noticed things like that. Once you got into his circle and he held you close, well he would do anything for you. Some people got an express pass, like Lindsey or the other kids he saved, but people like him and Jay, people that work their way in there, they mean just as much.

“Go home, Antonio.” he said simply, turning to leave the bathroom again, though hesitating just before he got to the door. “Look after yourself, take a few days off.” 

It was a small addition, and if you asked Antonio about it later he might actually say that he thought he imagined it, but the words hung in the air a little, giving him the strength to push himself up onto his feet.


End file.
